


All Shall Be Forgiven

by Eastern_Lights



Series: Another Path of Haytham Kenway [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Gen, fix-it (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23610826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eastern_Lights/pseuds/Eastern_Lights
Summary: In the year 1747, a young Templar Haytham Kenway finally manages to track down one of the men responsible for his father's murder. However, both are arrested for desertion and sentenced to death by Lieutenant-colonel Edward Braddock. After a daring, if less than succesful, escape from the gallows, Haytham convinces Braddock to let both of them live. After interrogating the mercenary, Haytham follows the trail of breadcrumbs... all the way to the mastermind of the attack.ORHaytham kills Birch about twelve years sooner.
Series: Another Path of Haytham Kenway [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714165
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

"Haytham! What an unexpected pleasure," Birch exclaimed, smiling, "Sit, my boy, sit, please!"

The young man obeyed and took a seat opposite Birch, who started pouring two glasses of whiskey.

"Now tell me, how are things?" he asked, "Any luck finding your father’s killers?"

Haytham gave him a mirthless smile.

"Yes, actually."

And in a lightning fast motion, he drew a dagger from his coat and drew it through Birch’s hand and deep into the wood of the desk. A howl of pain echoed through the office.

"Did you really think I would not find out?" Haytham growled through gritted teeth. He twisted the dagger, which produced another roar from Birch. He did not normally relish causing pain, but in this instance, he was more than willing to make an exception. Birch swung his free fist at Haytham, who caught it easily.

"Guards!" Birch yelled. Haytham smiled again.

"Oh, not to worry. They shan’t be disturbing us anytime soon."

Birch’s jaw clenched.

"You, disappoint me, Kenway," the elder Templar growled, "I had thought you pragmatic enough to put petty emotions behind you in favour of greater good! Where are those years of training?"

"Those years of lies, you mean! I do hope you can forgive my 'petty emotions' considering you destroyed my family and stole everything I was meant to be!"

Haytham tore the dagger out of Birch’s hand. Hot blood splattered his face. He leapt over the hardwood desk separating him from his former mentor and smashed him into the wall. Haytham pressed his dagger against Birch’s throat. The older man’s eyes darted towards the door.

"Look at me," Haytham shook him violently, "Look at me! I want to see the life ebb away from your eyes!"

Birch managed a haughty smile.

"And what exactly do you hope to archieve by my death, boy? Do you think the Assassins will welcome you with open arms?"

"I do not serve the Assassins. I do not share their ideals, nor their goals."

"You would have turned out the same, you know? A tool, an executioner. The only thing I did was turn you to the winning side!"

Birch seemed to force himself to relax slightly.

"It is not too late, Haytham," he said, his voice like poisoned honey, "Release me now and all shall be forgiven."

Slowly, Haytham relaxed his grip on Birch’s collar. Then he removed the dagger from his throat and dropped it, letting it sink two inches into the floorboards with a dull 'thud'.

Birch put his healthy hand on Haytham’s shoulder with a fatherly smile...

...that turned into an expression of shock and pain as Haytham sank his hidden blade into his heart.

"I am all out of forgiveness," he told the dying man and let him fall to the floor.

He stood over his father’s killer, feeling calmer than he had in years. He watched Birch’s eyes grow dull and unseeing. He raised his right hand to his own eyes and took a long look at his ring. He believed in the Templars‘ cause, he truly did, but how many people like Birch were in their ranks? How many Templars were so determined to reach their goals that they would resort to such atrocities? Birch, Braddock... and those were only two. Whatever the Templar ideals, the order as a whole could never be what in was meant for, if such men were its building blocks.

Haytham closed his eyes, tore the ring from his hand and threw it to Birch’s feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, you have no idea how many times I almost wrote 'Bitch' instead of 'Birch'.  
> I hate that man.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this and have a nice day!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea I'd be writing a sequel, but here we are and I hope you enjoy :-)

Now that the death of Edward Kenway was avenged, it was time to undo the theft of his property. Haytham knew Birch would have kept his precious research close by. He ran his fingers across the bookshelves, seeking a hidden compartment. Finding nothing, he turned to the writing table and on a hunch, knocked on the wood. It sounded hollow, more so than it should have. Unwilling lose more time looking for the lock and then the key, he reached for a heavy candlestick and smashed the hardwood desk with one well placed strike. The noise did not bother him much, after all, the chateau’s guards had been safely knocked out and stacked in the wine cellar.

Surely enough, there was a large chest’s worth of journals and books. Haytham brushed the splinters off of them, went to the window, tore down a curtain and started piling the table’s contents onto it, making it into a makeshift bag. When he was done, he threw it unceremoniously over his shoulder. He felt his knees protesting the sudden weight, but ignored the pain and made his way out of the office’s doors.

He was quick to exit the place he had called home for the past twelve years. He felt no regret, had no wishful thoughts of what might have been. He’d done what he had to, and that was that.

„Master Kenway?“ said a voice to his left. Haytham spun to look. His hidden blade flashed out of his sleeve.

It was a but a disciple, about fifteen years old, with dark hair and eyes. His terrified gaze went from Haytham’s bloodied face to his equally red hands and finally, to the blade.

„Are we under attack? Where is eyeryone?“ the boy asked. He spoke with an accent, rolled his Rs.

Then his eyes narrowed.

„Why are you leaving?“

Haytham said nothing and tried to resume his walk towards the main entrance. The boy, the brave fool, moved to block his way.

„Let me pass,“ Haytham said. The disciple drew a dagger from his belt.

„Explain yourself, Master.“

He had no time for this. However, he also had no desire to hurt the poor child. Probably an orphan, Haytham thought. Orphanages were where the Templars found most of their young pupils. The boy likely believed everything he had been told. How long would it take him to understand? Or would he become as corrupt as his masters?

„Put the blade down. I do not wish to hurt you.“

„I… I cannot.“

„Listen to me,“ Haytham began earnestly, „This order is not what you think. It is flawed and full of greedy men seeking only power and riches. Now, you have three options before you. One, you can try and kill me which I cannot guarantee you’d survive. Two, you can let me pass and remain here. You can free the others from the cellars, finish your training and become a Knight, a tool in the hands of those more powerful than you, like… like me.“

The boy’s eyes widened. His hands started shaking. Haytham had no idea what he was attempting here, why he even tried to help the boy. Perhaps he sought to tell him what he wished someone had told his own fifteen year old self.

„Or three,“ he continued, „You can follow me out of this accursed place and be your own man.“

Haytham took a step towards him. Despite being armed, the disciple took a step back.

„Well?“ Haytham asked, „What shall it be?“

About five minutes later, two riders exited the Chateau grounds and disappeared into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

They rode until dawn and finally stopped to rest in a forest a few dozen miles east of Reims. Haytham wanted to stay as far from settlements as possible. The Order would soon sent agents to exact revenge.

„What’s your name?“ Haytham asked after they’d made fire and sat down.

„Jáchym,“ the boy said and pulled his coat tighter around himself.

„Birch found you during his time in Bohemia, didn’t he?“

„Yes. He said I could do great things, that he would give my life a purpose.“

Haytham sighed.

„He promised me the very same thing. But in the end, I suppose only we can give our life a purpose.“

„What did the Order do to you, Master Kenway?“ Jáchym asked carefully.

„Don’t call me that, please.“ He extended his hand for the youth to shake. „My name is Haytham.“

Jáchym shook his hand. He had a surprisingly firm grip.

Haytham took a long look into the flames.

„What did they do to me, you ask?“ He scoffed. „What didn’t they? Reginald Birch had my father murdered, then took me as his own. Then he slowly turned me into a weapon for the Order. I’ve never known anything else. They stole my life.“

„I’m so sorry,“ said Jáchym after a moment’s silence.

„What’s done is done. But I don’t want you to suffer the same fate.“

„What should I do?“

„What do you want? You are free now. You can always return to the Order, if that is your wish. You can always say I kidnapped you. You can go home to Bohemia or start an entirely new life anywhere else, the point is I want you to have a choice.“

Haytham suddenly pictured his Father’s face in the flames.

„Everyone should have a choice.“

The two travelled together for two more weeks, until one morning Haytham woke up and found Jáchym gone, along with his horse and belongings. He smiled. Whatever happened next, whatever he was going to do with his own life, Haytham had given him a choice.


End file.
